


An Unexpected Visitor

by makeitgayyoucowards



Series: The Tardiness of Dwarves [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3246419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeitgayyoucowards/pseuds/makeitgayyoucowards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins left Erebor a year ago with a heavy heart. His life has seemingly returned to normal, but what happens when an unexpected visitor shows up at his door?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Visitor

Bilbo was tending to his garden. He had planted the acorn from Beorn’s garden in his own, and he watched the little sprite of a tree grow, he remembered. It had been a little over a year since he was left the dwarven city of Erebor. He could still hear the screeches of the eagles overhead as Thorin wasted away in his arms. He could feel the slow seep of blood as it left Thorin’s chest, could feel the wrench of pain in his chest as Thorin huffed out his last breath. Bilbo would never forget the feeling of helplessness that had washed over him at that moment. He could do nothing as the light left Thorin’s eyes, taking Bilbo’s will to live with him. The pain was just as fresh as it had been that fateful day, and Bilbo truly believed that the pain would not lessen, no matter how many years he lived. He had his garden, his cozy hole in the ground to keep him satisfied, but his life had never been the same since he had rushed out of that little green door.

Bilbo pulled himself out of his memories with a start, and brushed away the tears that he hadn’t realized had been falling. He stared hopelessly at the little acorn tree that lay before him, before he climbed slowly to his feet. Bilbo brushed his hands tiredly on his vest and turned to head back inside. It was still early in the day; he had consumed a nice bit of bread and cheese for elevensies before he had stepped outside to tend to his garden. Bilbo stepped back into his home, sighing as the cooler air of the hobbit hole washed over him. The afternoon sun had made him sweat, even if the gardening he had been doing had not been very strenuous. Bilbo opened the wooden door of his pantry, sighing heavily as he stared at the selection of food that was before him. On most days he could be a normal, happy, hobbit content to smoke his pipe and tend to his garden, but on some days, the memories seemed too fresh, too painful. Today was such a day. On these days he found it almost impossible to go about his normal life. Thorin Oakenshield no longer dwelled in the world of the living, so what was the point of Bilbo dwelling here? Bilbo sighed again, and shook himself, trying to breathe evenly. He knew that Thorin would have wanted him to be happy. Bilbo lived on, even though Thorin was dead, and he was not one to live in the past. He straightened up, forced a smile on his face, and grabbed meat and bred for his lunch. He was living, and that was all that mattered.

Bilbo went about the rest of his day like normal, forcing a smile back on his face every time he thought about Thorin. It was better to focus on the good things, not the bad. He would remember Thorin Oakenshield as the brave dwarf who had reclaimed Erebor. It was no use dwelling on what had become of him in the end. Bilbo went through the rest of his day with this in mind, having his meals and smoking his pipe, as well as writing of his adventures. The sun had long set when Bilbo finally put down his pen, resigning himself to another night of nightmares. He tended to write of happier things late into the night, gardening secrets and the ways of herbs, so that sometimes the nightmares didn’t come. Sometimes he distracted himself so much with thoughts of plants that he didn’t wake up screaming in the night. But sometimes he was not so lucky. On many occasions he awoke with a scream, his hands clenched in front of him, his bed sheets stained with sweat. Sometimes the dreams came so violently that Bilbo forgot that he even made it out of the battle alive. He was determined that tonight not be such a night. He was determined to get a good nights sleep, to chase off the memories of what could have been and focus on the now. But with the day he had, it seemed hard.

Bilbo pulled himself sluggishly down the hall towards his bedroom, his body protesting after being still for so long. He opened the door to his bedroom with a creak, and set about his nighttime routine. After he had set up his bed to his liking, and lay comfortably among his many sheets, he let his mind begin to wander. He tried to keep his thoughts on the happy times he had shared with the dwarves, but the screech of the eagles and the stench of blood kept coming to his mind. He forced away the image of Thorin breathing out his last words, and focused on the blinding smiles that were so rarely sent his way. He was just beginning to slip into sleep with the image of a smiling Thorin in his head when I loud knock startled him back into the waking world. Bilbo huffed out an angry breath, wondering who on earth would come calling at such a late hour. The sun was well past set; no respectable Hobbit would come knocking on his door at this hour. He supposed it must be one of the hobbit fauntlings, playing a prank on the not so respectable Master Baggins. He groaned and shrugged on his old dressing gown, padding softly to his door. He knew that it was most likely a prank, but it would be rude not to check if there was some sort of emergency. Bilbo grabbed the heavy wooden door and pulled it open, and there, standing clear as day, was Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo gaped, taking in the broad shouldered figure that stood before him.

“Master Baggins” Thorin rumbled, his deep voice reverberating through Bilbo’s bones. “May I come in?” Bilbo stared for a second longer, his brain trying to process this unexpected development. His vision went blurry around the edges, there was a rushing in his ears, and before he could open his mouth to utter anything that resembled a sentence, his vision went black, and Bilbo felt the ground come and swallow him up.

w

The first thing Bilbo felt was the softness of his own bed under him, and he kept his eyes closed, trying to remember what had happened to him. He remembered a knock on his door, as well as finding Thorin Oakenshield standing; very much alive it seemed, on his porch. Bilbo felt his heart lurch, and then drop, finding it’s home somewhere in the vicinity of his toes. His fingers clenched at the blankets that covered him as he came to the inevitable conclusion. It had all been a dream. He had fallen asleep with the thought of Thorin in his mind, and his subconscious had come up with a situation where Thorin Oakenshield was alive and well, instead of buried under the mountain kingdom of Erebor. He let the breath slowly leave his body in a small sigh that came out more like a sob. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, and contemplated staying in his bed for the rest of his life. He stayed curled in a tight little ball for a few more minutes breathing slowly, before he deliberately uncurled. Bilbo willed his tears away, relaxed his limbs, and resigned himself to his fate. There would be no sleep tonight, not after that dream.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the glow of candlelight on his ceiling. Bilbo furrowed his brow in confusion; he did not remember leaving a candle on before he had dozed off, he wasn’t usually that careless. He turned his head towards the light, and was surprised to find himself facing a very grave faced Thorin. Bilbo yelped out an exclamation of surprise, as he leapt out of bed, catching his feet on the covers and falling ungracefully onto the floor as he did so.

“Bilbo?” Bilbo heard Thorin’s voice ask from somewhere above his head. “You haven’t fainted again have you? Are you alright?” Bilbo heard Thorin shuffling in place, leaning over the bed to check if he was indeed well. Bilbo straightened up quickly, brushing off his vest in irritation and embarrassment as he did so.

“Yes fine, thank you very much” Bilbo stuttered, trying very hard to keep his composure as he stared hard at the ground. His lip trembled slightly as he finally lifted his chin to face Thorin, a small blush appearing on his cheeks.

“You’re dead.” Bilbo mumbled unhappily, glaring daggers at the ghost of Thorin Oakenshield that stood before him. “I felt the breath leave your body. I am still a slightly respectable hobbit, despite my flaws, and I shall not be bogged down by a hallucination of the dwarf whom I lost that day. Be gone please. I can’t have you here.” Bilbo huffed as he felt the tears welling up in his eyes again. He couldn’t stand it, seeing Thorin standing there. He looked so real, if a bit thinner than when he had last seen him. His face was slightly pale underneath his beard, and his cheekbones were more prominent, it looked as if he had lost weight in death. Bilbo let out a slightly hysterical giggle, continuing to glare at Thorin. Thorin stared back, a confused look on his face, as if Bilbo was the one who wasn’t making any sense.

“I’m not a ghost.” Thorin’s brow furrowed, and it seemed as if he was      searching for the right words. “Dwarves are hardy creatures. If you must know, I fell  into a dead-like state that day. The rest of the company feared that I would never truly wake, and they did not want to give you false hope, that is why they kept silent when you left. It was better for you to believe me dead, then suffer through my death a second time if I did not ever wake.” Bilbo gawked, not daring to believe the words that he was hearing. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it as hope bubbled in his chest. It could not be real, he told himself, it was too good to be true.

“I am real, Master Baggins” Thorin rumbled, his voice loud in the small area of Bilbo’s bedroom. Bilbo stepped forward, hand stretched out as if to touch. Thorin watched, waiting, calm and collected as the hobbit tried to gather his thoughts.

“It cannot be true.” Bilbo whispered, almost to himself. “It cannot” His pale hand finally came to rest on Thorin’s chest, and Bilbo let out a breath that he did not realize he had been holding. Thorin was surprisingly solid under his touch, he watched; seemingly content to let the hobbit find his own way. He slowly ran his fingers up and down Thorin’s broad torso. Bilbo looked up into Thorin’s eyes, tears already streaming down his face.

“You’re here. You’re really here.” Bilbo let himself fall against Thorin, as the sobs that he had been holding back burst out of his chest. Thorin let his hands come to rest around Bilbo’s waist, supporting him as he sobbed.

“I’m here Bilbo.” Thorin murmured. “And I don’t intend to leave you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you for reading you beautiful person you! This is my first ever Hobbit fanfiction. After BOTFA, I had to make a fix-it fic to make myself feel better (Thorin, dead? What are you talking about that didn't happen). I will be adding a second installment as soon as I can, the explicit rating is for the second installment, so there shall be much Smex to come! I am a student at University, so keep in mind that I only write for fun, if I don't post for a while I apologize. Comments and Kudos are love, please let me know if I made any glaring mistakes. Constructive criticism is always welcome!
> 
> Check out my tumblr! - the-baddest-of-wolves.tumblr.com


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